


Go Figure

by faeryn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU - Figure Skating, Controlling Family, Destiel - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Fic on hold, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Dean, I'll add if I think of them, M/M, On Indefinite Hiatus, Or as they become relevant, Protective Cas, Romance, Skating Accidents, Slow Build, Texting, i'm not sure what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 21:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeryn/pseuds/faeryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>19/02: This fic is on hold pending a rewrite, unfinished with no current eta on when updates will start again. </p><p>Castiel Novak is a champion figure skater earmarked for Olympic glory, Dean Winchester is a self-proclaimed 'novelty' act who just wants to keep the prize money rolling in. </p><p>Can they learn to be more than they think they are, and perhaps save each other in the process?</p><p> </p><p>This fic is dedicated to my dear friend Micah, who has been invaluable with research and knowledge, and without whom this would have undoubtedly fizzled out after a chapter or two. You are the Dean to my Jo, without all the awkward sexual tension <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> ...figure skaters are totally awesome, just saying.
> 
> Disclaimer: My VERY VERY LIMITED knowledge of figure skating comes from Google and Wikipedia. I've used a LOT of creative license here. If you have more knowledge and want to give me advice then please feel free! But when reading bear in mind it's fiction and I've been quite liberal in making things fit how I want the story to go even if they don't necessarily fit with what I find about the sport. So forgive me please ^^;

Dean pressed his face to the thick plastic screen and held his breath in awe as he looked out on to the ice. The black-haired boy was spinning in place, experimenting with how he slowed down or sped up as he put out his arms. Dean could just imagine how impressive those tight circles would look in costume, glitter or sequins catching the intense lights of the ice rink, or perhaps frills flaring out behind him as he spread his arms like wings.

Pushing himself around the ice a few times to pick up speed again the boy began to spin once more, this time lifting one leg and trying to lift the other above his head. He didn’t quite make it, to Dean’s surprise, but it was close.

“C’mon, son, time to go,” Bobby called but Dean couldn’t look away.

“Look Uncle Bobby, he’s _really_ good.” The ten-year-old said, his breath fogging the plastic and he rubbed it away hurriedly.

“No better’n you,” Bobby said, glancing at the other boy on the ice, “well, no better’n you’ll be with a bit more practice. C’mon now, your brother’s waitin’.”

Dean looked back for a second then jumped half out of his skin as a sheet of ice hit the plastic in front of him. Turning back with a yelp he saw the boy skating away backwards, his blue eyes twinkling merrily at his joke. Dean grinned and lifted his hand in a wave and the boy bowed low before a deft movement sent him hurtling into another dizzying spin.

“I’d be sick, spinning like that all the time,” Dean commented and Bobby chuckled.

“C’mon boy, there’ll be plenty of time to ogle the competition later,” curling an arm around the boy’s shoulders protectively Bobby steered him out of the rink and into the warm summer night.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the true first chapter. I hope you all enjoy it :) 
> 
> Just to note: the chapters are not going to be a set length, some will be extra long like this one, others will be very, very short.

“I’m bored,” Dean complained petulantly, not caring in the least that he sounded like a child. They’d had to arrive at the competition hours before any of the skaters were even due to go on to prepare, warm up, change, put on make-up and about a million other things that went with a televised competition... Dean felt like a painted whore and his sequinned outfit hugged his skin uncomfortably.

“You could watch the competition, boy,” Bobby shot back. He had little patience for Dean’s antics on competition days, though he would usually indulge the boy, “you’re twenty-one damn years old, act yer age.”

Dean glanced at his coach and was surprised to see the aging man’s body taut with anxiety.  
“Hey, Uncle Bobby,” the older man looked up sharply, Dean hadn’t called him that in years, “relax will ya? They’re gonna love me.”

Bobby snorted but visibly relaxed. “It’s not them loving _you_ that concerns me... There’s another kid your age in his first adult competition and I heard he’s won every adolescent competition he competed in. Jodie Mills said he skates like nobody she’s ever seen before.”

Dean felt his heart hammer in his chest – well he _hadn’t_ been worried before. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bobby.”

“Boy I didn’t expect ya to win this contest ya idjit, this is just experience for you. I just wanna see this wonder boy that’s got everyone buzzing, he’s been in Europe for somethin’ close to ten years but I’ve never even heard of him... ah, here he comes!”

Dean wobbled over to the barrier where Bobby was scrutinising the competition and looked out curiously onto the ice. He’d never heard the man get so worked up about an opponent before so this kid must be something to behold. He didn’t quite catch the name but he could see the other boy skating gracefully towards the middle of the rink, resplendent in pure white. As he moved Dean caught the shimmer of sequins and picked at his own outfit absently, unable to rip his eyes away from the opalescent ripple. It was such a stark contrast to his head of messy dark hair and Dean covered a smile.

The boy struck a pose and Dean rolled his eyes, the commentators always took forever to talk before the music started so he knew the poor boy would have to hold that for longer than would probably be comfortable.

“...Italian champion...” Dean vaguely heard one of the commentators remark and wondered if they were referring to this scrawny looking boy. Finally the music started, a slow instrumental piece Dean didn’t know, and the boy began to skate.

And it was obvious this guy was a pro, his movements were fluid and his jumps well executed. He rarely fumbled – in fact there was only one occasion Dean saw him falter when he hit a small patch of uneven ice but the boy turned it into another graceful turn and continued.

“Shut yer mouth,” Bobby murmured and Dean did, he hadn’t even realised he was gaping.

Doing a round of the rink the boy sped past them before bounding into another graceful leap and Dean could have sworn he saw a familiar flash of blue.

“Bobby, where did you sa-“ he began, turning to his coach but before the rest of his sentence could come out they were showered with ice. He jumped, shaking the light flakes from his carefully styled hair and glaring at the boy who was skating away from them with a wicked smile on his face. Dean’s heart jumped as he recognised the move, but this time he didn’t find it impressive or funny. He was _furious_.

 

Dean had never wanted to be a figure skater. When asked in interviews he always waxed lyrical about it being his passion and that he never felt happier than when he was on the ice, but the truth was... he didn’t really care for it. He was too tall, too thick set and just lacked the grace he saw in other skaters. When he was younger he hadn’t minded, he was smaller and slimmer then, but as he grew up he filled out until he resembled a hockey player more than a figure skater.

Luckily Bobby Singer – who wasn’t really his uncle, but had filled the role of Dean’s father so often he might as well be – recognised Dean’s strengths and played to them. He rarely skated to classical or melancholic music, usually his routines would be choreographed to oldies rock that never failed to get a laugh then a cheer from the crowd. When he skated alone they dressed him in outfits that accentuated his green eyes and when with Jo, his partner, they coordinated to her golden hair and gave them more lifts to draw attention to Dean’s well-toned arms.

Even still Dean often wished he’d been the one to go to college and Sammy, who had the tall, gangly look favoured by most trainers, had been the one to take up skating. It wasn’t the worst career he could go into, he supposed, but he just felt _strange_ , like he didn’t really belong. That was actually one of the angles they played up, that he was just this shy, cute, home-grown Kansas boy who danced to his dad’s music and broke girls’ hearts wherever he went.

Dean pushed these thoughts from his head as he made his way to the centre of the ice rink, taking his starting position and holding the pose for the annoyingly long time it took the commentators to note his attire and joke about being iced by the other skater earlier. He just about managed to resist rolling his eyes, knowing the cameras were on him, then – to his relief – the music started and he began to skate.

He lost himself in the whirlwind of his routine, practiced on the ice until his feet almost bled and then even more in his bedroom, the thuds of him missing his landing a common sound in their household. Sammy had told him once he sounded like a rhino and Mary, their mother, had tapped him with a spatula and told him not to be rude. By the time he finished, neatly landing a Loop Jump, he was actually beaming. He always felt satisfied when he finished a routine without falling flat on his ass, and he hadn’t fumbled any of his tricks the way the blue-eyed boy had. Coming off the ice and accepting a water bottle from Bobby he beamed at the cameras as they waited for his score.

Dean looked appropriately overwhelmed as he shot up into second place, just barely ten points behind the blue-eyed boy and he and Bobby shared a joyful hug for the benefit of the cameras. They weren’t usually so affectionate but... it was expected. They had to play to the crowd. There were about five more skaters in the men’s free skate left, then the ladies free skate so Dean knew he had a little time to kill before he needed to be back to do his routine with Jo. Once the cameras were off them he slunk away to pull off his skates and change into warmer clothes before escaping into the freezing Canada air.

Why they always insisted on having these shows in cold climates Dean would never know, it wasn’t like Florida was lacking in ice rinks exactly. Just once he wished he could leave a competition and head out into a warm climate to draw the chill from his bones.

He leaned against the railing outside the rink, glad of his thick coat that covered his face and sighed heavily.

“You skate very well,” a voice came up behind him and from the corner of his eye Dean saw a figure lean against the railing, mirroring him.

“Thanks,” he retorted, not really wanting to get into a conversation.

“It’s been a long time since I saw that kind of raw talent,” the other guy continued and Dean frowned, trying to place his accent. It was American but with a slight twang that made it sound like the speaker was unused to speaking English.

“Sure, whatever,” Dean was being rude but he didn’t care.

“Are you always so charming to people trying to compliment you?” The stranger sounded amused, not offended, and Dean risked a glance.

He was surprised to see those intense blue eyes watching him and after a moment he began to feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny. A blush crept up the back of his neck and he was once again glad his thick, fur lined hood covered most of his face.

“Only those that use under-handed tactics to gain points,” Dean shot back, suddenly remembering the ice spray and feeling angry, “that was a dirty trick, man.”

The other guy looked suitably chastened and lowered his gaze. “I am sorry about that, Zachariah feels you are... competition. He insisted, although I did hope you might find it at least a _little_ funny... But I do not think that it affected your score.”

“Yeah, only by probably the ten points I’d need to beat _you_ ,” Dean grumbled and the two fell into an uneasy silence.

“Please, let’s start again. I’m Castiel Novak,” Castiel held his hand out for Dean to shake.

“Dean Winchester,” he replied gruffly, gripping the hand for barely a second and then dropping it.

“I know.”

This surprised Dean – from what he’d heard inside this guy was some kind of European big shot, which explained the weird accent, so how would he know or even care about Dean?

“So, uh,” he said nervously, turning back to lean on the barrier again, the constant stare of Castiel unnerving him, “I heard you’d been in Italy or something?”

“Mhm, Rome since I was twelve. I understand you are from Kansas – Lawrence, right?”

“Yeah, my folks live there but I’ve travelled around a lot with Bobby. So you’re American but you live in Rome?”

“My parents are American but I’ve spoken Italian almost exclusively since I moved there so I don’t know if I still qualify. You have a brother, correct?”

“Quid pro quo, Clarice,” Dean laughed at the back-and-forth exchange of questions. Not that he minded especially, it just struck him as funny. Castiel seemed confused, tilting his head to one side and frowning slightly.

“No, my name is Castiel, not Clarice,” he said.

“Dude, haven’t you seen Silence of the Lambs?” Dean’s jaw dropped, he thought everyone at least knew that part of the movie even if they hadn’t seen the whole thing.

Castiel shook his head and Dean mirrored the action in disbelief. “Damn, you need to get out more buddy. To answer your question, yeah I have a brother. His name’s Sammy – Sam - and he’s studying law at Stanford right now. You got any siblings?”

“I don’t really go out, I skate,” Castiel gave a little shrug of his shoulders as if that was just normal. “I have a large family, my siblings are Balthazar, Hester, Anael and Samandriel. Balthazar is a delinquent, Hester is also studying law but at Harvard, Ana is my publicist and Samandriel is still in school although he comes to see me skate if it isn’t too far. Why do you use such rough music for your routines?”

“Wow buddy, your family have got quite the names there.” Dean made a note to ask about those later. “I’m not really much for that fancy stuff and I don’t really _get_ classical music so Bobby... he figured if he couldn’t get me to conform to the music he’d cater to my tastes.” He shrugged. “People seem to like it, I’m not exactly what you’d call a classical skater,” he rubbed his face thoughtfully. “So what’s with all the weird family names, don’t you guys have nicknames?”

“My parents are religious, they named us after angels. I believe Balthazar’s friends call him ‘B’. Hester does not have a nickname that I know of, Ana is Ana and Samandriel...” he gave a short laugh, “we call him Alfie.” Dean looked up at the fondness in Castiel’s voice when he spoke about Samandriel – Alfie, he supposed – and correctly guessed Castiel’s favourite sibling.

“What about you?”

“You said ‘quid pro quo’ – I did learn Latin in school, you know, it’s hard not to in Italy. That means it’s still my turn to ask a question.” Castiel gently chided him, staring Dean down and almost daring him to object.

“Alright, shoot,” the brunette laughed.

“Why don’t you think you are a classical skater?”

Dean raised an eyebrow then straightened up to his full height, though he was surprised to see he wasn’t that much taller than Castiel. “I’d have thought that was obvious, I mean you’ve seen me in those ridiculous spandex outfits they put us in. The rest of you guys are... y’know, _graceful_. I’m a lumberjack in sequins, a novelty act, that’s all. So, don’t you have a nickname?” He changed the subject hurriedly, not really wanting to dig into _that_ pile of worms.

Castiel shrugged and dug his hands deep into the pocket of his coat. “I’m just Castiel. Zachariah calls me Castiel, I don’t spend enough time with most of my siblings for them to develop a nickname for me, my parents always use our full names and I don’t have any friends to speak of.” He shrugged again and Dean suddenly felt very sorry for the blue-eyed boy. “Do you not realise how beautiful you are?”

Dean choked and laughed aloud, the strange question catching him completely off guard. “Dude, that’s not the kind of thing guys say to other guys.” The way Castiel frowned and tilted his head to the side showed he clearly didn’t understand. Dean turned to face him and clapped him on the shoulder, waving his hand in front of himself to emphasise his words. “For a start, it’s totally gay. I might let them dress me up like a drag queen but I’m all about the chicks, understand? Secondly, guys are _handsome_ , not beautiful. Chicks are beautiful, dudes are handsome. Got it?”

“I understand, but you didn’t answer my question.” Castiel looked mildly amused now his confusion had passed.

“I dunno, I think I did a pretty good job,” he huffed, digging his hands back into his pockets.

“Yes, actually, I think you don’t realise and that does answer my question after all.” A smile played about his lips and Dean shifted uncomfortably. He’d been called a lot of things in his life but _beautiful_ wasn’t one of them. Part of him was secretly very pleased by the compliment, not that he’d ever admit to it. “Do you do anything besides skate?”

“Hey, Cas, be fair, it’s my turn,” Dean said playfully.

“Actually, you asked two questions when rebuking my use of the term beautiful, I was only going to ask one in return.” Castiel looked at him solemnly, then his eyes narrowed and he looked confused again. “Cas?”

“Yeah, man, your name’s a mouthful,” Dean laughed, “and that counts as a question,” he grinned. He was starting to enjoy this game, Castiel wasn’t such a bad guy after all – ice spray notwithstanding. “So right back at you, what do you do apart from skate?”

Castiel looked surprised, as if he’d hoped by asking the question himself he wouldn’t be asked it in return. “I skate,” he replied then shrugged, “just skate. Practice, study, forms... Zachariah is quite thorough in my training.”

Dean’s jaw dropped again. “ _Dude_ ,” he said, not able to think of a way to express his sympathy so trying to pour it all into that one single-syllable word. “That blows. You should get your brother to show you how to be a delinquent,” he started to laugh but cut it short when he saw fury in his new friend’s eyes.

“Balthazar is a disgrace, I _hate_ him,” Castiel hissed.

“Woah, sorry buddy,” Dean held up his hands in defence, “I didn’t mean...”

“You out here, boy!” Bobby’s voice called from the doorway and Dean bit back a sigh of relief. He really hadn’t wanted to upset Castiel.

“Yeah I’m here!”

“Castiel, what are you doing out here?” A cold voice came up behind Dean and he jumped slightly.

“I was just getting some fresh air,” Castiel said quietly.

“I think that’s our cue to go back in,” Dean smiled, “see ya around, Cas.” He turned away and followed Bobby inside, but not before he heard an icy voice hiss “ _Cas?_ ” in incredulous tones.

 

“Poor kid,” Dean said into the mirror in the dressing room as his stylist fussed with his hair.

“Who?” Bobby asked, picking invisible pieces of fluff from Dean’s second outfit.

“The Novak kid. You know he doesn’t even watch movies?” Dean turned in his chair to look at Bobby and the stylist tutted in annoyance. “Says he does nothing but skate. Sounds like a seriously crap life to me.”

“Yeah well, he’s not a champion for nothin’, boy.”

“A champion?” Dean allowed his head to be twisted back into place so the stylist could finish his hair.

“Yeah, European champion ya idjit, weren’t you listenin’ earlier? They want him to represent the USA in the Olympics so he’s gotta live here a couple years so he qualifies.”

“Wow,” Dean hadn’t realised the blue-eyed boy was such a good skater, considering how he’d fumbled a relatively simple trick earlier.

“Oh he plays down his skill,” Bobby said, as always correctly guessing Dean’s train of thought, “doesn’t like to win every competition, and tries not to win by too big a margin until it matters. I watched him skate in the championships,” Bobby’s voice took on an awed tone, “tellin’ ya boy, I never seen anythin’ like it before or since.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Bobby,” Dean snorted and Bobby glared at him.

“Nothin’ wrong with admiring yer peers, Dean, and yer good but y’ain’t _Novak_ good. Nobody is, so quit ya bellyachin’ and get changed.”

 _‘Maybe, but_ he _thinks I’m beautiful_ ,’ Dean thought to himself then ducked behind the changing screen quickly before Bobby could see his cheeks tinge pink. Where the hell had _that_ come from? Well, okay, he’d admit – only to himself and only a tiny bit – that it felt great to be called beautiful, even by another guy and even more so now he realised the extent of Castiel’s skill.

 

Dean came third in the men’s free skate and he and Jo got second in the pairs so Dean was thrilled as he made his way up to the podium to collect his award for his routine. He grinned at Castiel – who came second – but the other boy wouldn’t meet his eyes and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Dean wasn’t sure if he’d truly offended his new friend, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was Zachariah’s influence that was making Cas ignore him. Still, it hurt a little considering how well they’d been getting along.

_I don’t have any friends to speak of..._

The words rang in his ears later that night and Dean felt a surge of anger at Castiel’s coach, certain that this was the reason for his isolation. He turned over and punched his pillow in frustration – he wasn’t exactly mister popular, but he had a few friends and nobody would stop him making more if he wanted to. He pressed his mouth into a thin line as he made a decision; even _Zachariah_ wouldn’t stop him making a friend if he wanted to. That decided Dean finally drifted off into sleep filled with dreams of spiral positions and piercing blue eyes.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I encourage comments and although I have already written about half this story I'm going to try and update it no more often than once a week! Simply because then I have time to write the rest, ahaha. If you have any suggestions feel free to shoot them my way ^^
> 
> I'm looking for a beta reader! For this fic and others. I'm tired of re-reading things and cringing at all the awful mistakes I see, haha. Drop me a message here or on tumblr if you're interested in getting to read everything first! <3

“What did you think you were doing, little brother?” Ana’s voice was gentle but exasperated and Castiel shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“I didn’t realise I wasn’t permitted to speak to other people,” Castiel replied, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“You know you’re not allowed to talk to the competition.” Ana pressed her fingertips to her eyelids, feeling a headache coming on. Whenever Castiel did something against Zachariah’s rules it was always down to her to straighten things out. Now that Castiel was older, bigger, Zachariah was no longer able to physically intimidate the boy. Though he still did, he realised that if he pushed his luck one day Castiel might push back and that was something he couldn’t afford. So he left punishment largely to Ana, much to his niece’s dismay.

Castiel snorted softly. “He’s an excellent skater, Ana, but hardly _competition_.”

This wasn’t, in fact, what Castiel truly thought. He firmly believed that if Dean would stop looking down on himself and thinking of himself as a... a _novelty_ act he had the potential to be a far better skater than he himself. But he wasn’t about to let on that little tidbit of information to anyone else; he’d been around other skaters his entire life and he knew that if he gave even the slightest hint that he thought Dean might be a threat...

“That’s not the point, Castiel,” Ana snapped, “you know the rules.”

“He’s nice,” Castiel said obstinately, “and it’s not like I have anything else to do when I’m not on the ice at these things. Even _I_ have a limit to how much practice I can do, Ana.”  
“Oh little brother,” Ana sighed, sagging to the couch beside him and drawing him into her arms as she had when he was a child. “You know I would like nothing else than for you to be friends with this boy, but...”

“Then why can’t I?” Castiel asked bitterly. “Oh, right, because even at twenty-three I’m still too much of a child to make my own decisions. I’m an adult, Ana, I should be allowed to have _one_ friend at least.”

“ _I’m_ your friend, Castiel,” Ana said softly, running her fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“You’re my _sister_ , Anael,” he growled.

“Can’t I be both?”

Castiel made a grumbling noise but didn’t reply.

 

“Did you straighten him out?” Zachariah asked Ana as they stood watching Castiel practice forms in his studio, Zachariah occasionally calling out instructions.

“I reminded him,” Ana replied, not taking her eyes from her brother, “but I think you should reconsider this isolation you keep him in.” Zachariah looked at her incredulously but she held up a hand to stave off any protests before she could explain. “From a publicity perspective it makes Castiel look aloof and standoffish for him to never be seen socialising with others. It won’t endear him to the Olympic committee if they think he thinks he’s better than everyone else.”

“He _is_ better than everyone else,” Zachariah interrupted and Ana nodded.

“Yes, but it looks bad if _he_ thinks that. Zachariah, the lonelier he is the more unhappy he will become. That will affect his skating too, eventually. I’m not saying you should let him run wild, I’m just saying perhaps having a friend will be helpful for him.”

“Well... I suppose at least he’s not chasing _girls_ around, if he starts thinking about sex then we’ll never keep his mind on the ice,” Zachariah said thoughtfully. “But did he have to choose such a...” his lip curled and he couldn’t even finish the sentence. “Perhaps I’ll introduce him to some boys his level, if we keep him away from the Winchester boy he can at least have some positive interactions.”

Ana nodded, satisfied that at least her brother wouldn’t be lonely any more. It wasn’t the resolution she had wanted for him, but it was a better concession than she had hoped for. Their parents had given Zachariah full control of every aspect of Castiel’s life and he exercised that with an iron fist – even this small step forward was a breakthrough.

 

Castiel felt like he was being _courted_ as Zachariah introduced him to other skaters at the next competition and the urge to roll his eyes as these doe-eyed dullards shook his hand with puppy-like enthusiasm and gushed how pleased they were to meet him or eyes him with wary respect. He knew his reputation was impressive but it annoyed him that this was all these people seemed to see. He also knew Zachariah was trying to keep him happy by allowing him to meet other people, but control him by carefully selecting who he thought was worth introducing to his prodical child. Not that Castiel was a child, but Zachariah didn’t seem to have realised that yet.

“I saw your Championship routine,” one guy was saying, all breathy awe and watery eyes, “it was incredible.”

“Thank you,” Castiel replied, giving him an indulgent smile. He practically _swooned_ and once again Castiel bit his tongue to keep from rolling his eyes.

Satisfied that Castiel was occupied with the gaggle of young skaters, Zachariah left to talk publicity with Ana and let Castiel’s parents – who had made a rare appearance – congratulate him on their son’s progress. After a while the boys grew tired of their rapturous adoration of Castiel and began to ask each other about the contest, their routines and their lives. Castiel wasn’t allowed to talk about his routine and had no life to talk about so he fell silent, listening to their idle chatter. Unsupervised these guys weren’t as interested in him anymore, now they saw he was just another normal person. He eventually edged to the side of the room and watched their interactions.

“Psst,” a hiss came from nearby and he turned instinctively towards the noise. Blue eyes locked with mischievous green ones and, with an apprehensive glance at the other boys to make sure they hadn’t noticed him pulling open the side door, Dean beckoned to Castiel to follow him. They were both ready for their turn on the ice so Castiel saw no harm in leaving his guests to it and silently slipped through the door, grabbing his skates as he left.

They trotted down the staircase and pushed out into the freezing air, Dean immediately making a chilled noise and wrapping his arms around himself, though he was wearing a thick coat like last time.

“Why’d they always hold these things in the coldest places, huh Cas?” He grinned. “D’you reckon they think we’re gonna melt if we’re too far from the ice or something?”

“Perhaps, although I confess skating in hot countries is not as much fun as you might think,” Castiel replied with a smile. “Thank you for the rescue,” he said sincerely, throwing his skates over his shoulder and shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

“We’re friends, right?” Dean asked, genuinely wanting to know but also reassuring Castiel that he thought so too. “Besides, it didn’t look like they were much fun.”

“No, they were carefully selected by my uncle to be my ‘friends,’” Castiel made air quotes and rolled his eyes, “because my sister is concerned that I am lonely. But I am not, apparently, permitted to make my own decisions on who I wish to socialise with.”

“Dude that’s so fucked up, sorry man.”

“I know, and don’t be.” Castiel shrugged and Dean thought it was one of the saddest gestures he’d ever seen. “I’m used to my family being controlling. Fortunately I do enjoy skating or it would likely be _unbearable_.”

“Well at least one of us does,” Dean snorted then shook his head, “sorry, that was kinda rude.”

“You don’t enjoy skating?” Castiel looked stricken, horrified that Dean didn’t love to skate as much as he did.

“Nah, not much. Oh I tell interviewers it’s my life’s passion, sure, but really I could take or leave it. Brings home the bacon, so long as I place often enough. I just wanna get Sammy through school, that’s all.” Dean pressed his teeth together and mentally kicked himself, he’d never told anyone about that before.

“Oh, you skate to pay for your brother’s tuition?” Castiel was curious, tilting his head to one side as he questioned.

Dean punched him lightly in the arm and laughed. “It’s my turn to ask a question, buddy. How come you let your uncle, or whoever, control your whole life like that? Even if you love skating it’s gotta suck.”

Castiel frowned as he considered the question. “I... Hm, it never really occurred to me that I had a choice. I’ve been skating since I was old enough to walk, when I tell interviewers that skating is my life... well I do mean that quite literally. I have had an education, of course, but... Any time I wasn’t in school was spent practicing.”

Dean felt sad for Castiel, although his childhood had been much the same. But he’d had a brother he loved and had been given plenty of opportunities to do other things, been allowed to make friends. Even now at twenty-one he wasn’t really restricted so much on what he could do as long as he never skipped practice. Though Bobby lectured him for picking up girls in every city they were in he was never truly angry at his charge and just told him to be safe if he couldn’t keep it in his pants, which never failed to make Dean laugh.

“So,” Castiel said, brightening up, “you skate to pay for your brother’s tuition?”

Dean cursed inwardly, he’d hoped Cas would forget to ask him that question.

“Yeah. My mom can’t work, she was hurt really badly in a fire when I was four. Dad’s an ex-marine who works part time in an auto-shop and looks after mom when he’s not at work but he doesn’t make enough to do more than look after them both. Bobby’s an old friend of dad’s and when I showed interest in his job at ten things kinda clicked into place... I started skating to bring in extra money and just kind of... never stopped.”

“I am sorry you don’t love it, I find it hard to imagine... But you skate terrifically for someone whose heart isn’t really in it.” Castiel smiled warmly at his new friend.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean was glad the dim light and his hood covered his face as he felt it warm at the compliment. “Hey,” he said, suddenly brightening up, “let me give you my cell number, then you can text me!” He quickly scribbled the number down on a piece of paper he pulled out of his pocket and tucked it into Castiel’s before he could object, or point out he didn’t have a cell phone.

“Dean!” Bobby’s voice called, quietly and furtively, “you boys out here?”

“Over here, Bobby,” Dean called back, stepping away from the wall to wave at his guardian. Castiel shrank back into the shadow but Dean flashed him a bright smile. “It’s okay,” he reassured the boy.

“Yer uncle’s lookin’ for ya, boy,” Bobby said with a nod to Dean, “thought I’d better come get ya before he finds you. I told him Dean was still in make-up, so we better get back there before he figures out I’m lyin’ through my damn teeth.”

“Thank you, Mr Singer,” Castiel said and Bobby hissed through his teeth in annoyance.

“It’s Bobby, now git,” he nodded his head towards the door and Castiel slipped through it with no further comment while Dean and Bobby re-entered through the other entrance.

 

“Where the _hell_ have you been?!” Zachariah screamed the moment Castiel re-entered his anteroom, now blessedly free of the fawning sycophants his uncle wanted him to befriend.

“I was just getting a breath of fresh air, it was getting... stifling in here.” Castiel began to walk towards the door, conscious that it would soon be his turn on the ice. Zachariah moved to intercept him and held a hand out, stopping him from leaving the room.

“If I find out you’ve been with that _Winchester_ boy...” His tone was dangerous but Castiel just gave him a bland look.

“I was alone, but believe whatever makes you happy, uncle.” Ducking past Zachariah’s arm Castiel pulled open the door and left, hurrying down to the rink to put on his skates. A blast of guitar music rang out and Castiel quickened his pace, not wanting to miss Dean’s performance.

He reached the barrier just after the start, managing to catch his friend perfectly execute a Salchow and his breath hitched in his throat as he watched the ‘novelty’ act blow the judges away. If Dean didn’t win this contest Castiel would be surprised, since he had no intention of winning himself and in his opinion Dean was the best skater of them all. If only he had more _confidence_ in himself.

When the routine was over and Dean left the ice, breathless and flushed but looking pleased with himself, Castiel quickly bent down to pull on his own skates; he was next up.

Unsurprisingly Dean shot straight into first place, and since there were only three guys left to skate and Castiel knew the two after him were amateurs in every sense of the word he was confident Dean would win. He heard his own name being called and pushed out onto the ice, ignoring Zachariah’s words behind him.

Castiel always skated with care, his movements chosen with almost obsessive control. One of his strongest assets was his ability to restrict himself until it mattered and he was very particular. He could predict his score to within a few points, allowing for a fickle judge voting on their opinion rather than his form and so he made sure that today’s routine put him at a minimum of three points behind Dean, a maximum of nine so he wouldn’t drop into third place.

Sure enough he shot into second place and, when the contest was over and he took his place to collect his prize, he was pleased to see Dean grin at him. His new friend must know he had deliberately not won, but he didn’t seem upset. Castiel knew the prize money would mean a lot to Dean, if nothing else.


	4. Chapter 3

_Rising Star Dean Winchester Wows Judges_

Castiel read the headline and smiled, flipping through the magazine until he found the article in question.

_“I’m just a Kansas boy,” Dean says meekly to our interviewer and you could almost believe him if he said he’d never set foot on an ice rink in his life. His loose jeans and plaid shirt scream ‘country boy’ but when you see him step out onto that ice the illusion disappears._

Castiel nods at the page as he reads, the writer of the article is perceptive and he approves.

_You don’t see it when he skates but Dean has a smattering of freckles across his nose that darken when he blushes, talking about his home and his little brother who he obviously adores, and it’s not hard to see why he has a reputation for breaking hearts in every city he competes in._

The article is accompanied by a two-page spread of photographs of Dean; first in the clothes described in the interview, a pair of well-worn jeans and a red plaid shirt that makes his green eyes stand out coupled with a thick black belt and biker boots. The other page is a collage of pictures of Dean skating and Castiel smiles, remembering.

“Why are you so taken with this boy?” Ana asked as she stepped into the room, catching Castiel reading the article for the umpteenth time that day.

“I’m not,” Castiel replied flippantly, “I just think it’s important to study the competition, know their weak points.” He flipped through the magazine then tossed it on the table and looked up at his sister.

“Uh huh,” Ana says, unconvinced, “I thought you didn’t consider him competition?”

Her tone is teasing, but her expression is worried and Castiel realised he needs to be more careful.

“He won that last contest,” he starts.

“You could have beaten him easily,” she interrupted, tilting her head to one side in an unspoken question.

“It’s no fun if I win _every_ contest, Ana,” he shot back, annoyed, “and maybe I underestimated him a little bit. I already know I’m not allowed to talk to him, so this is the only way I can make sure I can find his pressure points.”

“Oh Castiel,” Ana said sadly, dropping to the couch beside him and pulling him into her arms, stroking his hair the way she did when they were younger.

“I’m twenty-three, much too old for cuddles,” Castiel grumbled, but settled into the embrace anyway.

“I’ll keep working on Zachariah,” she murmured, “just stay out of trouble until then, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Ana,” Castiel said demurely, knowing better than to try and argue.

After she left he picked up the article and began reading it again, a little thrill of pleasure rushing through him at his secret friendship.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, already knowing who it would be – nobody else ever texted him; Zachariah had only conceded to giving him the cell phone in the first place because he wanted to be able to contact Castiel after his disappearance last time.

_Im bored_

**You’re always bored**

_Theres never anything 2 do_

**Practice your forms**

_U practice ur forms :P_

**I have been practicing all morning, I’m taking a break**

_Me 2_

**You’re a terrible liar**

_Im adorable_

**Fortunate for you that you do have your looks because your lack of dedication is unparalleled**

_Bitch >[_

**Jerk :)**

_So what u up 2 neway?_

**Reading a magazine and trying to make Anael leave me alone, she’s quite the pest sometimes**

_What she want?_

**The usual**

_Tell her to f-off?_

**I would never!!**

_& thats y ur there bitch_

***their and I am not**

_Correcting my spelling? Low blow Cas :P_

**It’s not my fault you’re practically illiterate**

_Ur a dick ;)_

“Castiel! What are you doing!” Zachariah’s voice cut through Castiel’s mind like a knife and he leapt to his feet, quickly deleting the texts with one hand as he turned to face his uncle.

“J-Just,” he stammered, not sure how he was going to reply.

“Just nothing, come on it’s time for practice.” Zachariah flicked his fingers at Castiel and the boy obediently trotted from the room, shoving his phone back into his pocket and tried not to show his relief.

He spent the rest of the afternoon with his ballet instructor, who had the absurd notion that he was able to tie himself into knots and was extremely cross whenever Castiel was forced to stop because he could feel his bones creaking. Zachariah watched him like a hawk so it wasn’t until he collapsed into bed that night, exhausted, that he thought to look at his phone again.

_Hey man I was kidding_

_You’re not really a dick_

_Buddy c’mon talk to me_

_I’m sorry Cas :(_

Cas cursed quietly in Italian under his breath.

**Zachariah came in and I had to go to practice, I couldn’t text you because he watched me the entire time. Sorry to concern you.**

_Ur not pissed?_

**Of course not, I know you’re joking.**

_Phew! Gud :)_

**Do you have to use that text speak?**

_Yh ;p_

**I swear you turned off your auto-correct just to drive me crazy >[**

_Pretty much :P_

**Jerk**

_Bitch ;)_

**I need to go to sleep now, ttyl**

_You used text speak!!!_

**No, I used a common initialism to save time that is now wasted by having to explain that to you.**

_Hahahaha pmsl ur hilarious Cas, ttul x_

Dean stared at his phone in horror. Why had he put that x there?

_I mean ttul. No x. Sorry, habit ;)_

**I assumed, don’t worry**. **:) Good night.**

Dean sighed in relief and put his phone on his nightstand, settling back into the pillow with a yawn. He was glad Cas wasn’t pissed at him for the dick comment and soon drifted off into sleep.

 

“Hey Bobby, take a picture quick!” Dean called, wobbling slightly as he held his leg above his head.

“I don’t see why ya idjit,” Bobby grumbled, snapping the picture so Dean could drop his foot back to the ice with a whoosh of relieved breath.

“Cas said he didn’t believe I could do it, so I gotta prove him wrong,” Dean grinned, speeding to the edge and grabbing his phone from Bobby’s hands to text the picture to Castiel.

“Well one thing I can say for that boy, he’s given you more determination than I ever could.”

Dean’s phone buzzed and he pulled a face at Bobby, flicking the unlock button and checking the reply.

**Sloppy, try again.**

The phone buzzed again and a picture came through of Castiel in the same stance, leg pencil straight above his head and skate pointed upwards perfectly. Dean couldn’t deny the move looked incredible when executed properly.

_Who takes ur pics?_

**Ana**

_She okay with u sending them 2 me?_

**She doesn’t know, obviously. I told her I wanted them so I can study my forms when I’m not practicing. I don’t know if she quite believes me, but I think she’s happy as long as I’m happy and not antagonizing Zachariah. Obviously I’m not taking them and sending them as I go along. Go practice.**

_I am_

**No, you’re texting me. Go. Practice.**

Dean laughed and tossed his phone at Bobby, pushing himself back onto the ice to continue his routine.

_How’d u do that?_ He asked Cas later as he shovelled his dinner into his mouth with one hand and texted with the other.

**Do what? You’ll have to be more specific.**

_Stand so straight_

**Practice. And ballet lessons, you’d be amazed how many moves overlap and it certainly helps for flexibility.**

_Ballet huh? Thats so gay_

**I’m rolling my eyes, just so you know. Ballet has been invaluable to me, if you took some lessons perhaps you wouldn’t struggle so much with the stances.**

_Not gonna happen :P_

**Your loss, literally. I look forward to whupping you in the finals.**

_Haha as if u just said whup Cas thats not even in ur vocab. Ur assuming I get 2 finals_

**I learned it from you, obviously, and you know you will.**

_Ofc im amazing_

**I wish you would say that with more conviction and less sarcasm.**

_I wish u wud stfu :P_

**Very well**

_Im kidding_

**Me too ;)**

_Bitch!_

**Jerk**

“Son, if you don’t put that phone down now I’m taking it away,” John Winchester said sternly and Dean immediately dropped the offending item in his pocket.

“Sorry, sir,” he said, suitably meek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, sorry! And it's mostly texting, ahaha... I'm so lame. I might post another chapter up right after, see how I feel and how it looks. I feel bad making you all wait like a week and then not posting anything of substance *laughs*
> 
> In case anyone's worried: yes, this is going to be a long one, no I am not likely to get bored halfway through and stop writing it - I'm already over 35,000 words in and no sign of stopping. I'm just spoon-feeding you all with it so you don't forget about me (and so I don't make you wait an insanely long time if something comes up and I don't have time to write another chapter for a while). 
> 
> Not that I think anyone's remotely concerned, but you know ;)


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I figured I'd throw another chapter up for you all because why not. I have enough material here to last a while so hopefully I'll be able to finish and then upload a bunch more frequently :)
> 
> I'm trying to update the tags as I go along but if you think there's one I should add that's missing please let me know! I re-read all this so frequently sometimes I miss things in a chapter because I'm trying not to think of a tag that will spoil a future chapter x_x

Dean and Castiel had been texting back and forth for a couple of months when they both made the qualifiers for the next skate competition. This one was a pattern dance so they both had to learn the same routine and Castiel soon found he was getting more frequent photos from Dean asking for his advice.

**Are you eating properly?** Castiel asked one day, realising he could see Dean’s lower ribs through the skin-tight outfit he was wearing and quickly flicking through his other photos to see if it had been there before.

_Ofc I am Bobby says im a gannet whateva that means :P_

**I can see your ribs.**

_Must be all that exercise_

**Hm**

_What?_

**Nothing**

_No rlly, what?_

**You need to take better care of yourself**

_Blow me, Cas_

**Only if you ask politely ;)**

Dean nearly dropped his phone in shock, they had a teasing sense of humor but it wasn’t usually flirtatious. He fingered the buttons on his phone for a few minutes trying to think of how to reply when his phone buzzed again.

**Relax, I was joking. I am rolling my eyes again, jsyk. There ought to be an emoticon for eye rolling, you elicit it so frequently.**

_Haha, hilarious Cas_

**I thought so, we can’t all rely on being pretty boys – some of us have to have wit**

_Ur plenty pretty dude, even Jo swoons wheneva she cs u. Smth bout ur eyes she sez lol_

**Eye rolling again**

_Its tru I showed her 1 of the pics u sent & she got all breathless & made me send it 2 her. I think she uses it as her lock screen ;)_

**Dean!** Castiel never used Dean’s name in their texts, just in case anyone got hold of his phone before he had a chance to delete them.

_Uh oh. Wat I do?_

**Why would you show her those pictures without asking?!**

_Sorry dude I didn’t know it was a problem =/_

Dean always clicked out of text speak when they argued, Castiel wasn’t sure he even noticed he was doing it.

**Of course it’s a problem, I’m not supposed to be sending them to you let alone letting someone else have a copy!**

_No biggie bud I’m seeing her tomorrow for practice, I’ll ask her to delete it._

**Please do.**

_Alright. Jeez sorry man._

**I have to practice. TTYL.**

_Sorry :(_

The texts came less frequently after that and Dean felt like an idiot, he hadn’t realised he was doing anything wrong but that didn’t stop him feeling guilty as hell. He made Jo delete the photo and explained why to her so she wouldn’t get upset and she chewed him out for showing her in the first place. Dean was glad when they finally headed up to the competition the week before, where all the skaters would be sharing the Olympic sized rink to practice their pattern dances. There was no need for secrecy about their routines, since they were all the same, so it didn’t matter for them to practice together.

Dean grinned at Castiel from the other side of the rink; they were very careful not to get too close so Zachariah – who watched Castiel like a hawk at all times – wouldn’t guess they were friends but exchanged glances once in a while, rolling their eyes at some of the clumsier passes of their peers.

Castiel watched out of the corner of his eye as Dean practiced a particularly complex sequence, deliberately choosing that moment to stop and stretch out his muscles so he could judge his friend’s form and give him feedback later. His jaw dropped in shock as another skater, a guy he recognised but couldn’t put a name to, came up behind Dean and deliberately tripped him, sending the green-eyed boy skidding into the barrier on his side. The movement on the ice halted as Bobby called Dean’s name.

“Sorry about that, Winchester,” the boy purred, coming to a halt in front of Dean but not offering him a hand up, “didn’t see you.”

“Fuck off Gordon,” Dean growled, picking himself up. “I’m fine, Bobby,” he called but skated gingerly to the edge of the ice nonetheless and let Bobby give him a once-over.

Castiel seethed but picked up his routine again as the commotion died down, not wanting to draw attention to his concern for Dean. As he skated he saw Gordon laughing with a couple of others and his rage began to boil. How _dare_ he do that to Dean? Castiel waited for his chance, when Gordon’s attention was completely focussed on his own practice, and considered the best part of the pattern dance to use. A sly grin crept across his face as he edged closer until Gordon was practicing a spin and then, like lightning, Castiel swept into his own spin, neatly elbowing Gordon in the face.

He schooled his expression into one of abject horror as Gordon fell with a cry, his flattened nose gushing blood.

“Cristo santo!” Castiel exclaimed, “I didn’t see you there, frocio, my apologies!” Gordon stared up at him and spluttered. Castiel flashed him a smirk and skated away, letting Gordon struggle off the ice on his own. Dean caught Castiel’s eye and mouthed a thank you but Castiel just shrugged and refocussed his attention to his own routine, not missing the flash of anger in Zachariah’s eyes as he passed his trainer. He’d pay for that later, he knew.

 

_That was a dumb move Cas_

**Maybe so, but Walker looked pretty funny with a squashed face didn’t he? :P**

_Yeah was p hilarious. Bet u got chewed out by zach tho rite?_

**Eh, nothing I haven’t heard a dozen times before.**

_I still dnt get y u let him control u_

**I don’t understand why it’s such a problem**

_Aside from we cant be buddies cuz he sez no?_

**I thought we were friends**

_Yh but we have to sneak around abt it. Spking of, u busy l8r?_

**I was thinking of going for a walk**

_Gr8 me 2 ;)_

**There’s a park not far from the hotel**

_C u in an hr?_

**Sounds good**

“Dean?” Castiel’s soft voice carried easily across the short distance and the coat wrapped figure sitting on the bench nodded in reply. Castiel hurried over and took a seat, jamming his hands as deeply in his pockets as he could.

“Cold, right?” Dean laughed quietly.

“They really do seem to think we’ll melt if we’re too far from the ice,” Castiel laughed.

“Good to see you buddy,” Dean nudged Cas with a shoulder and flashed him an easy grin.

“Yeah.”

They fell into an easy silence, watching their breath mist in the freezing air.

“What did you have for dinner, Dean?” Castiel asked eventually.

“Cheeseburger and fries,” Dean replied, looking quizzically across at his friend.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just... make sure you eat enough, okay Dean? You’re getting positively emaciated.”

Dean laughed, emaciated was not a word he’d have ever used to describe himself.

“Sure thing, Cas, I’ll report to you every day if it’ll make you happy. Instagram you pictures of my every meal, even.”

“That would make me happy, Dean, yes.” Castiel looked back at Dean, his gaze serious.

“Alright, you got it,” Dean smiled and they both looked back out at the park. White frost covered the grass of the playing field, broken only by the occasional footprints of a rabbit or a bird. A low mist hung over the top of everything, muffling all sound and making the yellow park lighting muted, almost romantic. Dean sniffed, his nose cold, and dug in his pocket for a tissue. Castiel held out a handkerchief and Dean accepted it with a bark of laughter.

“Wow, thanks old man, you carry a handkerchief?” He wiped his nose then hesitated, not sure if he should give the dirty square of fabric back or not.

“It’s for you, Dean,” Castiel shrugged, “though I do carry one.”

Dean looked down at the little piece of white fabric in his gloved hand, noticing for the first time that his initials were embroidered on one corner and laughed again.

“I’d say it’s a weirdly random gift, but given that I’m cold almost constantly it’s actually pretty useful. Thanks Cas.” He tucked it up his sleeve so it would be easily accessible.

Castiel shrugged again. “I’m just tired of watching you rub your nose on the back of your hand, truthfully.”

“Yeah whatever,” Dean fell silent again for a while. “Won’t Zach be looking for you?”

“No, he’s out having dinner with my parents. I told Ana I was going to bed early and not to disturb me until tomorrow. Then I climbed out of the window.”

Dean hooted with laughter, clapping Cas on the back in glee. “Dude! That’s awesome! You’re a bad ass when you’re being rebellious.”

“Well I’m going to have to go back in through the lobby, but if anyone sees me I’ll just say I couldn’t sleep and went for a walk.”

“Seriously cool man.”

“If you say so,” Castiel shrugged again.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” Dean was full of concern, Cas wasn’t usually this dismissive.

“Nothing, really. Just... annoyed.” Castiel sighed and shook his head. “It irritates me that in order to see my only friend I have to resort to climbing out of windows.”

“I’m totally worth it though, right?” Dean teased, elbowing Cas playfully.

“Yes.” Castiel’s voice wasn’t playful or teasing, he was completely serious and Dean looked at him sharply.

“You sure you’re okay, man?”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

It occurred to Dean that Cas had been saying his name an awful lot and he said so. “Is it cause you can’t risk it in texts, you need to say it a lot to remind yourself who I am?” He teased his friend.

Castiel was quiet, considering his answer. “A little. You have a nice name, I like saying it. Zachariah and Ana call you ‘the Winchester boy’. That offends me. Aside from the fact that neither of us are boys, it’s disrespectful. So I want to use your name as much as I can, if only to try and rectify my family’s unnecessary disrespect.”

Dean looked across at Castiel, his jaw falling open as he spoke. It occurred to him that they really _were_ adults and he should probably stop thinking of Cas as a ‘boy’ – especially when he was two years older than Dean. He snapped his teeth together as Castiel gave a rueful snort.

“You know I got in trouble for that stunt with Walker?” Dean nodded mutely. “Even though Gordon Walker isn’t even _half_ the skater you are _he_ gets his first name.” Castiel seethed, the anger of that slight rushing back to him and he clenched his fists in his pockets. “Zachariah tried to get me to apologise but I told him I would only if Gordon was forced to apologise to you.”

“Hey man, it’s just a bruise, I’m fine,” Dean said, patting Castiel’s knee reassuringly.

“Maybe, but you _could_ have been badly hurt!” Castiel jumped up from the bench and rounded on Dean, who jerked back in alarm. “Nobody dares to touch me but it’s okay for them to hurt you? That’s not right! You’d be as good a skater as I am if only you’d have more confidence in yourself,” he snarled, “and they know it, so they pick on you because they can’t pick on _me._ And it makes me so angry!”

Dean stood up, a little overwhelmed by his friend’s sudden vehemence. They’d argued a lot about Dean’s talent and self-deprecating personality but he hadn’t realised that it bothered Castiel quite this much.

“Hey! Listen, I’ll be more careful okay?”

“You can’t be more careful when stupid _stronzo_ decide to rush you during practice,” Castiel spat angrily.

“Cas, Cas, calm down,” Dean put his hands on Castiel’s shoulders, leaning down to look into the boy’s blue eyes. Castiel stopped speaking and looked defiantly back at Dean, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Listen. I’ve always had to deal with that crap, it doesn’t bother me. And they never try to do any real damage cause they know I could KO them in one hit. It’s just a power play and it doesn’t _work_ on me. So stop worrying, okay!”

Castiel looked at him reproachfully, the mist of their breaths mingling in the air in front of them as they panted, releasing their frustration and anger in tangible puffs of water vapour.

“Okay, Dean.”

“Good.”

They fell silent again for a few minutes, neither wanting to risk the shaky truce they’d come to. Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he released Castiel’s shoulders, rolling his eyes and groaning.

“It’s Bobby, Zach’s giving him hell cause nobody knows where either of us are. You better hurry back, I’m gonna head to the bar I saw on the next block and lay low for a bit.” He grinned at Castiel and clapped him on the back jovially. “See ya tomorrow Cas.”

“See you tomorrow, Dean.”

They turned to part ways but Castiel turned back suddenly.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah buddy, what’s up?”

“Thanks. For being my friend.”

Dean grinned, barely visible in the low light. “Pleasure’s mine, Cas. Thanks for the hankie.”

He turned away, hoping Cas didn’t notice the tinge of color on his cheeks as he began to walk away, digging one hand into his pocket and raising the other in a backwards farewell to his friend.

 


	6. Chapter 5

“Hey Bobby,” Castiel said quietly, a hat pulled over his dark hair and his thick coat covering his distinctive outfit. He wobbled a little on his skates but did his best to hide it, hoping his uncle and sister were too busy fawning over his parents to notice he’d slipped away.

“Hey boy, yer uncle give you a hard time last night?” Bobby carefully didn’t turn his attention towards Castiel, keeping his eyes carefully fixed on Dean as he ran through his pattern dance.

“No more than usual. You need to make sure he’s eating properly,” he nodded towards Dean who flashed Bobby a smile as he sped past them, enjoying himself despite his constant denial that he didn’t want to be a skater.

“He eats plenty, I swear I’m not sure where that boy puts it all.”

“Then you need to watch him more closely,” Castiel was adamant. “He already thinks of himself poorly compared to other skaters and his sudden weight loss is concerning.”

“Weight loss?” Bobby’s voice faltered, he hadn’t noticed any weight loss in his charge – nothing that couldn’t be explained by his sudden enthusiasm for practice, he thought.

Castiel turned away from the ice, leaning casually on the barrier. “He looks malnourished, if he didn’t swear he was eating properly I’d think he was starving himself. So that just leaves...” He trailed off and pushed away from the barrier, recognising the music was coming to a close. “Look out for him, please. And Bobby – I’m sorry, I’m going to win,” he turned back as Bobby looked at him and grinned, his eyes twinkling as the older man rolled his eyes.

 

True to form Castiel nailed the pattern dance, receiving almost the top marks possible. Dean didn’t place in the top three, his bruised shoulder and hip paining him enough that he fumbled several positions – no doubt Gordon’s intention, as he moved easily into third place. Surprisingly Dean wasn’t his usual furious self when he didn’t place, beaming with pride as Castiel took first place and shrugging when asked how he felt.

“You win some, you lose some. I’ll do better next time,” he rolled his injured shoulder and clicked his neck with a grin.

Bobby watched him closely for the next few days, quietly amused that Dean – true to his word – took a photo of his every meal and sent it to Castiel to reassure the young man he was eating. Even still, Castiel continued to worry that Dean was dropping weight drastically. He had always been quite toned but the muscles in his shoulders and arms seemed to be waning, though Bobby swore he was practicing his lifts as much as ever. Castiel managed to get the trainer’s number and texted him almost daily for updates, worried about his friend.

“Yer boyfriend’s worrying about you again, boy,” Bobby said to Dean one day in the studio where Dean was practicing his positions.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dean snorted, performing a one-footed spin and landing heavily, “stop trying to needle me.” He gave Bobby a bland expression of disinterest. “What’s he worrying about this time?”

Dean had found out Castiel was in touch with Bobby a couple of weeks earlier after Cas text him querying something only Bobby could have told him. He was a little touched that his friend was so determined to watch out for him, after the initial anger passed.

“He reckons yer gonna have a hard time lifting Jo if you lose any more weight.”

“I’ll be fine,” he rolled his eyes, stalking to where his phone sat on a nearby bench, flopping down onto it to text Castiel.

_Will u pls stop bugging bobby hes driving me crazy_

**Well someone has to take care of you**

_I can take care of myself???_

**Clearly**

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

**I will find out what you’re doing, sooner or later, so you might as well stop now and save us both the trouble.**

_WTF???_

**Honestly it’s an exercise in futility, whatever you’re doing stop it.**

_Fuck you Cas_

**I remind you, only if you ask politely ;)**

_Whers that eyeroll emoticon u were talking about? >[_

**Seriously, I’m worried about you**

_Stop worryin!!_

Dean dropped his phone on the bench in disgust and flicked on the stereo, blasting rock music into the studio while he practiced and ignored the buzzing of his phone.

 

 

**Sectionals next week**

_Ikr cms 2 soon u redy?_

**Of course, are you?**

_Yup got a cool surprise 4 u_

**That sounds ominous, be careful okay?**

_Im always careful Cas :P_

**Hm.**

The sectionals came around faster than any of them would have liked, even Castiel was feeling the pressure and he practiced non-stop under the watchful eye of Zachariah. This meant he was forced to wait until he was alone in bed to check his phone and text Dean back. Usually it was just photos of his day; what he was eating, which Castiel was still insisting he send, goofing around with Jo and Bobby and posing for the camera practicing his positions. Castiel almost always ended up dozing off with his phone in his hand and a smile on his face, some half-completed text under his thumb as he imagined training with Dean, Jo and Bobby instead of Zachariah and Ana.

 

_“What the hell is this?!”_

Castiel lurched into wakefulness, narrowly avoiding headbutting his uncle in the chin as he sat up in bed, blinking wildly as his brain struggled to catch up with his body’s instinctive reaction. Adrenaline rushed through his blood making him light headed and it was a few moments before he could turn to Zachariah in confusion.

“W-what?” He rubbed his eyes until they focussed then his face blanched as he saw his phone being dangled in front of his eyes. “Oh, _that_ would be my cell phone.” He tried to sound nonchalant and squeezed his hands together in his lap so Zachariah wouldn’t see him trembling.

“Insolent whelp,” Zachariah snarled, “I mean all these photographs of that _Winchester_ boy. I thought I made it quite clear that you weren’t to talk to him!”

“With all due respect, I haven’t been _talking_ to him. At no point did you forbid photographs and text messages,” Castiel shot back and it wasn’t _exactly_ a lie; apart from their evening in the park Castiel truly hadn’t spoken to Dean.

Zachariah hurled the phone against the wall, shattering it into pieces and Castiel stared at the broken remains blithely. It didn’t really matter, he knew Dean’s number off by heart and he deleted the texts and photos regularly anyway. Ana’s footsteps thudded through the house and she burst into the room seconds later, her scarlet hair wild around her head and a dramatic contrast to her pink flannelette pyjamas.

“What happened, is everything okay?” She asked, panicked.

Castiel looked at her steadily, his heartbeat slowing as he overcame the shock of his rude awakening.

“Your brother has been texting the Winchester boy, sort him out!” Zachariah spat, spinning away from where Castiel still sat in his bed. “And get him ready to leave, we’re going in an hour!” With that he stormed from the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Ana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose before walking over to Castiel’s bed and climbing onto it, crossing her legs and tucking her bare feet beneath her.

“Talk to me, Castiel.”

“What is there to talk about? Dean is my _friend_ and treats me better than any of _you_ ever have. I exploited a ridiculously obvious loophole because I wanted...” he sighed and lowered his eyes, staring at his folded hands. “Sometimes... I think I can understand why Balthazar is so rebellious, sometimes I feel like...” he sniffed loudly and squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden prickling. “Like I’m sick of being _controlled_ all the time. I’m twenty-three, Ana, I’m an adult. I should be allowed to have _one fucking friend_.”

Ana drew back a little at the venom in his last words; in all the years she’d been with Castiel she had heard him utter precious few profanities and almost all of those in Italian and used sarcastically towards English speakers.

“Castiel, I agree with you,” she said carefully, “and I’ve been trying to get Zachariah to see sense on this matter. It isn’t important that you chose the one person he doesn’t want you to socialise with as your friend, you should be allowed to choose whoever you like. But it _is_ important for you to be obedient.”

“Why! I’m the best skater, I’m the most dedicated, none of them can hold a candle to me and yet...” he rolled his eyes and huffed in exasperation. “For God’s sake, Anael, Dean’s a good guy and he’s kind to me, surely my happiness should at least be a small consideration!”

“It is, to me. Castiel, I noticed months ago that your skating had improved and you seemed happier, I just didn’t understand why until now. For what it’s worth, I’ll support your friendship with the Winchester boy.”

“His _name_ is _Dean_.” Castiel spat, throwing the bedcovers off and hurtling into his bathroom, flicking on the shower angrily.

 

“Give me your phone,” Castiel instructed Ana later as he flopped to the bench beside her. Zachariah was in his office on the phone to some committee or other and Castiel was taking a short break while free from his watchful glare.

“Why?” Ana asked, but obliged.

“Well if I don’t text Dean he’s going to wonder if something’s wrong.” Castiel took the device and quickly composed a text explaining the situation to his friend and promising he would see him the following week. Sending and deleting the sent message, Castiel handed the phone back to his sister.

“Would he really worry?”

Castiel snorted. “Don’t have many friends yourself, do you Ana?” he said cruelly, hauling himself back to his aching feet to practice his jumps.

“Only you...” she replied quietly, once he was out of earshot.

 


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I would do a mini update early, since I'm nice and it's a /very/ short 'chapter'. 
> 
> I'm not planning these chapters out, I literally write and then stick a ~ in now and again wherever I feel it needs a break. I could have merged this chapter with the next, but I didn't.

The following week Castiel sat sullenly with Zachariah and Ana at the edge of the ice on the opposite side to where he could see Bobby’s ratty trucker cap and the shock of Dean’s spiked brown hair. Zachariah had been taking no chances this time and wasn’t allowing anything to distract him from his charge; he even pulled Castiel’s hand down when he waved at Dean as they passed each other, though Dean had shot him a sympathetic grimace and Castiel had shrugged. They didn’t need to _talk_ to understand that the situation sucked. Dean waggled his eyebrows in silent promise that he would find a way to speak to Castiel later before the shorter boy was hauled off by his uncle.

When Dean’s name was called Castiel pulled out of Zachariah’s grip and gave him a defiant look before wobbling on his skates over to the barrier to watch his friend skate. Zachariah was by his side in an instant but Castiel glowered at him until he backed down, realising this was an issue he didn’t want to challenge his nephew on.

Dean’s smile widened into a grin when he saw Castiel watching and he waved to his friend before taking up his starting position. Guitar music started and Castiel smiled as he recognised the song Dean had sent him to listen to, a sneak preview of his routine to couple with the photographs. Dean began to skate and, as always, Castiel was blown away by how graceful Dean was. It worried him that as the younger guy sped by Castiel caught a glimpse of angular hipbones jutting out where they had been hidden before and he vowed that he would give Bobby hell if Dean wasn’t eating properly again. He soon lost himself in the routine, however, and a thrill went through him as he saw Dean’s positions perfectly executed. He definitely had the skill to win, Castiel was sure of it.

Just as Castiel thought the routine was going to end without the ‘surprise’ Dean had mentioned he saw him brace himself and Castiel couldn’t help but breathe a little “no...” of uncertain shock; as far as he knew Dean had never attempted a backflip in a routine before and he hoped it wouldn’t be his undoing. From the corner of his eye he saw Gordon standing at the barrier, which worried him a little more, but he was soon distracted as his friend executed a perfect backflip, landing gracefully on both skates.

Time seemed to slow as Dean landed, a triumphant grin on his face for a split second before one skate buckled and went out from underneath him and he fell to the ice with an audible thud even from the other side of the rink.

“ _DEAN!_ ” Castiel heard his own voice scream hoarsely and he bent down to remove the blade guards from his skates before vaulting easily over the barrier. He was at his friend’s side in seconds, skidding to a halt and spraying the gawkers with ice as he stopped and knelt at Dean’s side.

Dean’s eyes were closed and Castiel could see a trickle of blood on the ice where Dean’s head rested. Grabbing a handful of the shaved ice caused by his skates Castiel pressed it to the wound, remembering dully that the cold should slow the bleeding, and screamed for help, two medics slipping their way towards him wearing their normal shoes and Castiel muttered expletives in Italian at them.

When they finally reached him they pulled him aside, his costume soaked through with ice and stained in Dean’s blood, before getting him on a stretcher and slowly taking him off the ice. Castiel knelt there in disbelief, not caring that he was getting colder and colder. What had gone wrong? He’d watched the manoeuvre carefully, it had been executed perfectly. There was no reason for Dean to fall like that. Then he saw Gordon standing exactly where he had been during the routine, a smug smile on his lips and he felt a surge of anger and began to struggle to his feet when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“Let go of me!” He hissed, whirling to see who had held him back.

“If yer comin’ to the hospital with me ya better git now ‘fore yer uncle makes his way over here,” Bobby said firmly, nodding past Castiel who turned to see Zachariah struggling through the crowds to get to them.

He didn’t need to be told twice and pulled himself over the barrier with a little help from Bobby, cursing his heavy skates and waterlogged outfit, tugging at the laces as he hobbled behind Bobby and dropping the offending footwear as he went. Diving barefoot into the passenger side of Bobby’s van the trainer gunned the engine and Zachariah was left standing with his jaw open in the car park as they screeched out into the night behind the ambulance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry :P   
> And now you all get to wait a week or so before the next update. *evil laugh*  
> I don't often like updating with such a short chapter, but this cliffhanger was too good to resist. 
> 
> As far as my research can tell backflips have been made invalid moves (in competition?) because figure skating jumps have to be landed on one foot but it's apparently dangerous to land a backflip one footed (according to Tumblr only one person has actually achieved this, but I take my Tumblr-based research with a grain of salt) so it's a two-footed landing. /However/ I have found (read: been given) tons of video footage from as recently as a few years ago where skaters have included successful two-footed backflips in their routines so I decided to throw it in there anyway. 
> 
> I did very little research on the results of skating accidents. And by very little I mean I watched one video and then went "NO MY IMAGINATION IS GOOD ENOUGH THANK YOU" so yeah, sorry if it's totally unbelievable, I'm not usually squeamish but =/


	8. On Indefinite Hold

Hi everyone, this fic is going on indefinite hold while I do a massive rewrite. Unfortunately I don't have a lot of _time_ for said rewrite so it's going to take a while. Please forgive me. There will also be a certain amount of retconning involved so when I am ready to start uploading again I will delete this chapter and put an overview of where the retcons are (i.e. which chapters need to be re-read) in the summary so nobody is missing anything.

I'm truly sorry for the delay but I hope that whenever I am able to post the rest you will enjoy it. There is a lot of (I think) interesting/fluffy stuff to come and I hope I will get the opportunity to share it with you. I know a lot of you are waiting to find out what's up with Dean too and I feel terrible for keeping you in suspense, I promise this was not my intention at any point.

In the meantime I will be uploading a few other little pieces I've been working on abstractly (ones I can scratch out without much thought whenever I have a moment at work) so hopefully that will distract you all enough to forget about this fic ^^; 

I'm so sorry. If you would like to discuss this with me feel free to get in touch via my tumblr (the link is plastered all over all my fics, you can't miss it) and if you absolutely, desperately can't wait for the rewrite to be complete and want to read the entire story as it is - understanding it's grossly unedited bollocks - then, again, you can let me know via tumblr and I will be happy to send you the fic through e-mail or something. 

I really can't apologise enough, thank you for your support so far and I hope you can forgive me for this. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr! On my [main blog](http://faeryn.tumblr.com) or my [very quiet writing sideblog.](http://faerynfics.tumblr.com)
> 
> <3 Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> I apologise to figure skaters, I have made up bunches of terms in this fic - some of them were placeholders that have just stuck in my head so I'm really, really, really sorry to any of you who are probably sitting there cringing if I've got it wrong! ^^;


End file.
